


a sweet, silent thought.

by flustraaa



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Criminal Minds RPF
Genre: Angry JJ, Angry Spencer Reid, Crying Spencer Reid, Episode: s07e02 Proof, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Drug Use, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau angst, Mad Spencer Reid, Sad Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Angst, literally just not using jj tags bc her name is so long to type huhhh, sad JJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: and somehow, the night always seems darkest just before the rising sun.
Relationships: Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Diana Reid, Spencer Reid & Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Comments: 18
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

JJ doesn’t quite know how to categorise Spencer’s behaviour, much less how to react. It’s not his normal brand of sass, it’s hostile and short comments, paired with harsh glares. 

He’s mad at her, she’d have to be a terrible profiler to not see it, and she’d have to be an even worse person to not know why. Nothing has been the same since Emily’s return, but the thing JJ can’t understand is why he’s mad at her— she’s not the one who faked her own death.

Hotch made a decision, and she followed orders, it _wasn’t_ her fault, and she knows that much. She was just following orders and he of all people should people know what that means.

She didn’t _mean_ to hurt him, and Spencer is the last person she’d ever expect to hold a grudge against her for something like this.

But there was just something about the way he looked at her when she was explaining how the trigger caused the Unsub do start acting out.

And now they’re standing in a precinct and JJ can’t hold it her anger any longer. She sees Reid’s back is facing her as he makes his way over to the a table in the room they’d set up camp in. His steps stop as he crouches over the desk and she picks up her pace so that he can’t ignore her again.

“Spence, look— we’ve gotta talk about this,” JJ’s arms move on their own accord, betraying annoyance that she tried to mask with her other outwards expressions.

She sees the glance he sends her, gone as soon as it comes, and he immediately looks back at the folder open file on the table— probably to memorise and then pull away.

That’s one thing she gets wrong, because he immediately retorts, “what do mean, talk about it?”

She steps forward, placing her hands on the chair, and he tenses— she wouldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t standing right there. Despite his apparent discomfort, she trudges forward, “I get it, okay? You're disappointed with how we handled Emily.”

As soon as he gets what he needs, he’s turning on his heels and fleeing, trying to get anywhere that’s out of her proximity.

“Look,” he snaps as he pulls away, refusing to meet her eyes, “I’ve got a lot going on right now, alright?”

But she won’t let him— after all, she thinks, it’s not her fault. It shouldn’t have even been this big of a deal to him.

“You know what I think it is?” She calls out and he turns to face her, eyes raging with silent fire. She barely waits for his ‘what?’ to continue speaking, “you’re mad that Hotch and I controlled our micro-expressions at the hospital, and you weren't able to detect our deception.”

_She’s got him_ , she thinks, he _has_ to confess that he’s mad at her because he’s mad at himself. He’s mad at _himself_ because she’s too good at her job. She knows that she’s going to win this argument the second he looks away, jaw slacked.

“You think this is about my profiling skills?” 

She shrugs, opening her mouth to rebut— she _knows_ it’s about his profiling skills.

“Jennifer, _listen_ ,”his voice cracks on the words, and it only takes the use of her first name to realise something is horribly amiss, “the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

But JJ snaps, “Spencer, I couldn’t tell you.”

Something so painfully uncharacteristic happens, and he starts to leave again. “No. You wouldn’t, and I think that’s the _worst_ part.”

“I couldn’t!” She reiterates, “I _couldn’t_!”

“ _Why_? Because you thought I couldn’t keep your _secrets_? You used to always tell me your secrets but the one time it’s important—“

“Spencer! I _couldn’t_ tell you and if you would just—“ but Spencer is having _none_ of it.

“You manipulated me because I _trusted_ you, but it’s a good thing that that I didn’t trust you as soon as I saw her.” His hands are shaking at his sides and his eyes glaze over in a way that breaks her heart.And then he repeats, “I cried to you for ten whole weeks, and you never told me because you care more about your _pride_ than me!”

The words are spilling from her lips before she can stop herself, her words cutthroat and spit with the intent to burn.They’re forced without so much as a stutter, “who else do you feel comfortable with Reid? You can’t go to Las Vegas and cry to your mommy when something goes wrong!”

Something in Reid’s eyes shifts, and but she’s speaking before she can place it, “I was being a good friend—“

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses at once, voice venomous, and she freezes, unable to form a counter, “It’s because of you that I missed saying goodbye _twice_.”

She grasps for words, but the word twice is blinking in her head like a Goddamn hazard light, so she blurts it, “Twice?”

His eyes are helpless and a traitorous tear begins to fall but he wipes it away without blinking, continuing on— more angry than she’s ever seen him.

And it terrifies her.

“You’re right, Jennifer. I _can’t_ go crying to my mom because she _died_ while I was saving the life of my old my friend who was supposed to be dead!”

Those same Godforsaken tears fall from his eyes and this time he doesn’t bother wiping them away, eyes boring into hers.

His chest is heaving, and his voice is still coming out strong, but she can hear the familiar inflection of tears in his tone, “it was the second time I didn’t get to say goodbye, and because of _you_ , it was the only important one.”

“Spence-“ but he shakes his head, throwing the file in his hands to her feet.

“Fix this for yourself,” He growls, “I can’t look at you— notice how I didn’t say _won’t_? That’s because I _used_ to care more about you than my job. If you’re such a good profiler, tell me why you never noticed it. You never cared about me, not even at my _lowest_.”

And then he’s leaving in a blur, the world spins as she watches his retreating frame. The words ring her head— used to, he _used_ to care about her and she _destroyed_ one of the first people he had ever come to trust.

Distantly, she registers that Emily is calling out to Reid, trying to get his attention— but all JJ can think about is how she’s never, ever going to be able to solve the mess she’s made.

_It_ —— she thinks— _was he referencing his mother or_ — her knees buckle as she realises the implication behind it— _she never noticed him at his lowest._

His lowest— as in the _first_ time.

She can’t believe that no one realized— she can’t believe no one  _asked_ .

The thought hits her like a train. He loses the only person he told about his migraines, and then he lost the only person he’s been tethered to his whole life— and he missed his chance at a goodbye to protect the people who had lied to him for _months_ on end— and none of them ever once _noticed_ it.

When she processes it she realises that Hotch and Rossi are crouching above her and Emily and Morgan have gone to follow Reid.

“What happened?” Hotch asks, voice concerned as he turns— as if Spencer will magically reappear and explained what the fresh hell they he’d just witnessed.

“He’s been taking Dilaudid,” She gasps, but it comes out in more of a sob, “His mom died, and he’s taking it again— and we never even noticed.”

And that’s how she ends up bawling on the floor of a police station— wrapped in Hotch’s arms as he tries to think of a way to fix the the bed they’ve made so terribly. But it is Rossi who realises, they may just have to lie in it.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily and— well, scratch that, Morgan convinces Reid to finish this investigation. From what they’re told, he agrees with a sigh after all of his tears have dried up.

They’d been outside for two hours, and had come back in at the hour and a half mark, face somber and guilt-ridden. 

“He’s sitting on the alley floor outside, fidgeting in patterns,” She says quietly, as if it were a secret none of them should know— one that none of them deserved to know. “I don’t know _how_ to fix _this_.”

Thirty minutes later, he come strolls back into the room, steps lacking all of Spencer’s normal life or rhythm. 

“ _Reid_ —“ Hotch starts, and if he’s being honesthe doesn’t even know what to say, but Spencer doesn’t even look at him. 

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” he mumbles, running a sleeve over his eyes, reaching for the folder that her thrown on the ground a few hours before. 

While he’s going through the material, speaking slowly and unsurely, they all look for the signs they missed— and even though he almost blatantly told them, they never realised he was back on Dilaudid, he was acting nothing like the Reid who was. 

It’s after they make the bust, sitting on the plane that it happens. Everyone gave him the space he needed, and eventually he rose to his feet walking to Hotch. 

Hotch doesn’t look up at him until theres a badge, completed case report, and a gun on the table in front of all of them. Everyone looks up at him, but he’s only looking at Hotch. 

“I’m resigning from the BAU,” there’s no hesitation, no dip in his tone. “and I don’t want to be relocated to another branch. I can’t do this anymore.” 

“Reid—“ Hotch starts, but JJ is talking before he can stop her. 

“Is this about the dilaudid? Are you on it _now_?” Her accusation comes out in a low hiss, and Spencer blinks at her three times, lips pursed, “you _are_ , aren’t you!” 

He doesn’t respond, returning his attention to Hotch, “As soon as I’m off this plane, I’m gone.” 

“Don’t leave like this,” it’s Emily who says it, and as soon as his eyes meet hers she knows it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Emily.” His words are blunt, devoid of any emotion, “I’m not the one who left everyone, but kept playing words with friends with Jennifer as if I’d never left. I’m not the one who didn’t have the decency to let you know some way or some how that I was okay. I’m not the one who asked you to help save me while your mom took her last breath. I’m not going to be the one who stays in a place where no one cares about me anymore.” 

It’s JJ who grabs his arm before he can stop her, pulling up his sleeve to check his veins, but she stops when she doesn’t seem the tell-tale signs of injection. 

“I thought about it,” he responds to her physical force with words, “But I didn’t. I guess that’s just another thing you didn’t know.” 

“What was the yellow pill bottle then?” She fires, and she can see everyone’s look clearly telling her to stop talking— but she can’t. 

Reid scoffs, reaching into his messenger bag to pull it out, “Zoloft. _Congratulations_ , you caught me. I’m _depressed_.” 

He shoves it back in the side pocket, huffing as he flops down onto the couch. 

“Spencer,” Rossi calls, but he doesn’t break his gaze from the air outside of the window, instead his fingers just tap a constant beat against his inner knee where they’re pulled up to his chest. 

_We lost him_ , JJ thinks, and when she looks around she can tell they’re all thinking the same thing. 

True to his words, Spencer is gone the minute they leave the airstrip. It’s not until Penelope walks into Hotch’s office where they’re all talking with her makeup running down her cheeks that they realise it’s worse than they thought.

“You just letting him leave?” Her words are shaking, and they come to the conclusion that he must’ve gone to her to say his goodbyes, “none of you thought to check on him? None of you knew his mom died?”

JJ struggles for air, “you knew?”

“You’re telling me you never thought it was a little weird that he was the only one who didn’t request reinstatement?” Now they’re all staring at her, and even in a building full of air there’s still just not enough, “None of you thought to ask him why? No one wondered why he went to Las Vegas for two weeks after Doyle? I was the only one; and for the love of God, who decided to think he started taking Dilaudid again?”

“Penelope,” JJ reaches out but she flinches back shaking her head.

“No, Jayje. If you don’t get him back by the end of the week,” she starts, slapping a file down on the desk, “You lose me _too_. That’s a _promise_.”

They watch her as she makes her way to the bullpen, heels clicking against the tile angrily. That’s when they see him, delicately setting his books and various desk pieces into a box. She says something to him, and he looks up— and it’s then that they realise Penelope wasn’t the only one crying.

She says something and he closes his eyes, shoulders moving with a sigh. Garcia’s shoulders start to move with silent cries and Spencer steps forward, wrapping an arm around her torso and placing a hand against the back of her head.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” they can see the words his lips form, “I have to do this. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

And despite having closed his eyes to stop the tears, they still fall, his face otherwise stoic.

She pulls away from him, holding her cheeks with her hands, saying something to him assertively. He nods, laughing at something she’s said, and the realisation hits them like a brick wall.

This is the first time since Emily’s death that they’ve seen him _smile_.

They watch as he unclips his ID tag, handing it to Garcia. With the last of his work being done,he picks up his box and leaves the bullpen. 

  
  


After unrelenting pounding for seven minutes, Spencer finally pushes himself up from where he’d fallen asleep the night before on his couch. He can’t help but be grateful that he slipped into a pair of the odd half khaki half jogger pants that and CalTech long sleeved shirt that Garcia got him for Christmas. 

He opens the door, eyes bleary and unfocused. When he sees who it is he just sighs, unable to close the door on him.

“Hey Kid,” Morgan says softly, a coffee tray and bag in his free hand, “Can we talk?”

“I don’t _want_ to go—“

“That’s okay, we don’t have to talk about Quantico. I just want to talk to you,” He says softly, eyes soft, “I didn’t see you slipping last time, I want to be here for you if it happens again.”

“I never took Dilaudid,” Reid blurts, as if it’s been weighing him down, “I thought about it, but I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, Spencer,” Morgan assures him, stepping past Reid as he catches sets the coffee on the table in front of his couch. “Did you sleep out here?”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck, stepping forward as he nods somewhat abashedly, “Yeah I was rereading war and peace, and I just kind of crashed. It’s been a long week.”

“I don’t blame you,” Morgan sighs, sitting on the furthest end of the couch. “Here, you need to eat.”

Spencer stares at the cinnamon roll warily, slowly sitting and reaching for the coffee before all else. It’s not a surprise to Derek.

“What?” Morgan finds himself sighing as Reid curls his legs up until they’re perched criss cross applesauce beneath him.

Reid is silent, trying to think of a way to phrase his thoughts, “Why are you acting like this?”

Morgan’s brows come together, forming a crease in the center of his forehead, “What do you mean? What am I acting like kid?”

Spencer hesitates, taking a long slow sip of his coffee before responding, “like you _care_ about me.” 

The air leaves morgans lungs, and his eyes fill with despair— Reid doesn’t have to be a profiler to see that.

“Oh, _Kid_ ,” he says, voice more wobbly than he’d care to admit.

“It... it wasn’t supposed to be a dig— it just, I—“ Reid’s stumbling for words, and Morgan understands that it’s because expressing feelings for him is like trying to pull teeth.

“I know,” Morgan soothes Reid’s racing brain, “I _know_ what you meant, it’s okay. I’m listening to you.”

Reid just blinks at him, eyes owlish, and it hits Derek in that moment what he needs to do.

“You just need someone to listen?” It’s supposed to be a statement, but it rings more like a question, each word rising in pitch.

Slowly, Spencer nods, “Yeah— no. _Kinda_.”

It’s rare to see the kid at a loss for words these days, but when it happens it’s something that shakes Morgan to his core. He sets his coffee to the side, turning to face Reid mirroring his position on the couch, and slowly they uncoil they mess that he’s wrapped up so compactly inside of himself. 

It’s a day before the deadline, and Morgan is running painfully late to the meeting. Everyone is on edge at the possibility of losing two of the most valuable assets to their teams 

But then, just as the clock reads sixty five minutes past their set meeting date, Morgan walks in, steps cool and casual and nothing like someone who is over an hour late should be.

“Morgan what—“ Hotch starts, but the words die in his throat when he moves out of the way to reveal Reid’s frame behind him. 

His hands are shoved into the pockets of his slacks, a sweater draped over his shoulders.

He starts speaking before anyone else can form a coherent thought, “I’m not sure if I want to stay. I told Morgan that I’d try one more case, and if it still doesn’t feel right I’ll be gone just as fast as I came. I never took Dilaudid, I thought about it but I never did. I took those two weeks off to get my mom buried and clean out our her room.“

He looks to Morgan, who nods softly urging him on. He sucks in a breath before continuing:

“I needed someone to _listen_ , but no one ever even asked. I felt like no one cared, and I don’t deserve that— even if it _feels_ like I do sometimes,” their hearts break a little at that, “and it’s okay if you don’t notice, I’m not exactly forthcoming, but I sometimes I just need to be reminded that I’m not a _burden_.”

They stare at him, jaws slacked, and under the weight of their prying eyes he hastily adds, “That was scripted.”

“But was it genuine?” Emily asks, and for the first time in fourteen weeks he looks at her without mirth in his eyes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, licking his lips as he looks back down at his shoes. “It was.”

“We love you,” Hotch states slowly, but there’s no question about his tone, “You know that, right?”

“I’ll try to remember,” Reid mumbles, in lieu of a response.

“I’m sorry,” It’s JJ’s voice, but Spencer still can’t bring himself to look at her, “I shouldn’t have assumed... well, anything really.”

“It happens,” He sighs, taking a seat in the open chairs, eyes trained on a file.

“Are you ever going to look at me again?” She asks, and she hates the way her voice cracks. “are we going to be okay?”

“Eventually,” he manages, voice cracklings as she shoves him emotions down, “but we’re just not there yet.”

And as much as she hates to admit it, she finally _understands_.


End file.
